27 Words
by supermandy77
Summary: Just because the rest of the world no longer use these words doesn't mean Castle and Beckett can't.
1. Chapter 1

_This is going to be a series of one-shots based on an article I saw a while back about obsolete words that should become popular again. Each chapter will focus on one of the words on the list, and I will give the word, it's origin, and meaning at the end of the chapter._

_Thanks to Tree23 for looking this over very very late last night._

* * *

You've developed a kind of sixth sense when it comes to him. When exactly it happened, you're not sure. But regardless of the time or place, you can tell when he's watching you. Staring. And you used to find it creepy—still do at times—but now you also see everything that is behind that stare. His acceptance of who you are, his astonishment that he gets to see you stripped bare—both literally and figuratively—and most of all, the look of a man in love.

And you don't even have to turn around to know he's entered the room.

What it is that alerts you to his presence this time, you're not exactly sure. It's later than usual, probably close to ten, and you're stopping for a pizza break with the boys. Your back is to the door and your eyes closed as you lift the first piece to your lips, the smell of green peppers and onions luring you in after a day so busy you haven't eaten any real food since breakfast. Something in the air changes just before you take the first bite, and you can't help but smile into it. That _he's_ here, come back to see you even after he was taken away from you for the majority of the day.

That first bite crosses your lips and you don't even bother holding back the moan. The pizza is good, yes, but you're more interested in creating a reaction in the man who's standing behind you, most likely at the entrance to the break room.

Your eyes open and look across the table. Ryan's eyes have flickered beyond you, but he doesn't say anything, gives no indication of Castle's presence in the doorway.

But you know he's there. And you can practically feel his eyes on you, as if they're burning into you.

He still doesn't make his presence known, so you decide to have a little fun at his expense. You lift the pizza to your lips once more and close your eyes as you audibly show your appreciation for the exquisite combination of vegetables, meat, and cheese evenly proportioned over the crust. The moan is loud and deep, and you're certain that Ryan and Esposito are feeling uncomfortable right now.

You open your eyes slightly, see them looking away as if they're intruding on something personal, and continue on your mission to drive Castle crazy. You peel the stray piece of mozzarella cheese of what remains of the slice in your hand, and lean your head back as you take in the long string, your lips finally closing over the gooey cheese once your fingers reach your mouth.

A gasp comes from the door, and you smile in victory. The boys cough, probably as a reminder that you're not alone.

"It's not polite to groak, Castle." You open your eyes and see that his mouth is agape and he's leaning against the door jamb as if he actually needs it to keep from falling over into a heap on the floor.

"I wasn't—I mean, I—"

"You weren't what?"

"I wasn't interested in the pizza."

From the corner of your eye, you see the boys exchange confused looks with each other. "Uh," you hear Esposito stutter, "I think I need something to drink." He rushes for the door, Ryan closely behind him, and you laugh at the way they always hide their eyes when "Mom and Dad" are acting even the slightest bit flirty. Never mind when you're getting Castle hot and bothered over a slice of pizza.

But you both laugh when they leave the room, and you forget how tired you are when you bounce out of the chair and into his waiting arms.

"For the record Beckett, I was in no way interested in the food. I was mesmerized by the woman eating it. And as _hot_ as it was, hearing you moan like that over a piece of pizza has me kind of jealous."

"Don't worry, Castle," you say as your hands cradle his cheeks and bring his lips just a breath away from yours. "That was all for you. Knew you were there the whole time."

You kiss him, deep and hard. Your hands find their way to the back of his neck, keeping him close even when he pulls away with a look of wonderment that takes your breath away. He looks like he has something to say, but he says nothing, just leans forward until your foreheads are touching and you're breathing the same air.

"Kids with Martha?" you whisper, now desperate to leave this case until tomorrow so you can leave with your husband.

"Both asleep, if you can believe it. I called Mother as I was leaving the fundraiser and she said they were both sleeping soundly. So here I am."

"Here you are." you repeat, knowing there's a plan in there somewhere.

"So here I am, making an effort to steal away my wife and spend some alone time with her before she has to catch more bad guys tomorrow."

"Hmm, that does sound very appealing." Your eyes cut away into the bullpen, looking for Ryan and Esposito, and you see them hovering aimlessly by their desks, not wanting to interrupt your moment. What you see makes the decision easy. "Give me five minutes and we can get out of here."

* * *

_Groak_

Meaning: To silently watch someone while they are eating, hoping to be invited to join them.  
Origin: Unknown


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, favorited, etc. It's nice to know how many people are enjoying this so far._

_When the idea was originally conceived, I thought this would be a series of unrelated one-shots. Now, it seems they're all going to fall in the same universe, some undetermined point in the future. I'm not going to put a season-whatever tag on it. _

_Thanks go out again to Tree23 for reading these over at a moment's notice. And for complaining they're too short. _

* * *

When her eyes first open, still heavy with sleep, the first thing she sees is the red glow of the alarm clock. _7:15_. And while her body is still tired and could probably benefit from another two hours or so of sleep, she knows it will never happen.

If Castle doesn't wake her up, then the kids definitely will…soon.

She feels her husband's arm tighten around her, feels his chest crowd into her from behind, and she breathes deeply. The road to _this_ hasn't been smooth. They've dished out a fair amount of hurt to each other. But as bad as it got, as deep as the wounds were, they managed to heal them together.

"Your little hugger muggers are planning something," Castle whispers in her ear, soft and teasing. She can feel the smile on his lips as they kiss the place behind her ear.

"I don't even know how to respond to that," she says, caught between the rush of arousal and the way he feigns innocence whenever the boys are up to something, because he certainly has _nothing_ to do with their sneaky and adventurous personalities.

"Should I be happy I put pajamas on last night at some point?"

"Definitely," he says with a laugh. "I've seen Lucas peek his head in here at least three times in the last 15 minutes."

The silence falls between them for a couple minutes, but Kate now has her eyes on the door, looking to see if her four-year-old is still trying to determine if his parents are awake. She sees the door knob turn slowly and the door inch open, and she closes her eyes enough to appear sleeping, all the while keeping one eye trained on the door. And just as quietly as it was opened, the door shuts again.

"See what I mean? They're up to something."

"Oh, I don't doubt it. But do you have to call them hugger muggers?" she asks, turning toward him as the sunlight continues to creep into their bedroom. "This isn't the 16th century, and I'm sure there are more accurate words you could use."

"They _are_ our little huggers, though. And pretty soon they won't be so giving, so I would just roll with it."

She opens her mouth to respond, but the words die in her mouth when she hears Lucas yell from the study, "_Alexis, Matthew, they're up! Can hear 'em talking!" _

She shares a glance with Castle, rolls her eyes, and smiles. "I think we've been found out. You're uh…decent, aren't you?"

He jumps from the bed, thankfully already wearing boxers, and throws on the closest t-shirt he can find. When he gets back in, he adjusts the pillows and sits up against the headboard next to Kate, his hand finding hers underneath the covers.

And then Alexis is peeking her head in, checking to make sure her little brother had it right. "Is it okay if we come in?" she asks tentatively.

Kate smiles and nods, quickly grabbing a hair tie off her bedside table and pulling her hair into a messy ponytail. Next thing she knows, two-year-old Matthew is trying and failing to bound up onto the bed, his little legs struggling to get a foot-hold so he can pull himself up. She reaches out her hand, intent on helping him up beside her, but he quickly pulls his hand away, lets out a little cry, and exclaims, "I can do 't my own self, Mommy."

She sits up, watches as Matthew figures it out and climbs up next to her while Alexis comes in carrying a big tray. Lucas has situated himself between them, forcing their hands apart as his daughter carefully lays the tray in front of them.

"Hate to tell you Kate," Castle says as he leans over and kisses her cheek, "but Matthew is more like you than you care to admit."

She doesn't say anything, Matthew's assertion that he find his way up onto their bed not being the first instance of him exhibiting Kate's same stubbornness.

"Mommy," Lucas says, pulling on Kate's shirt to get her attention. "We make you breakfast. For your…" He stops, looks to Alexis for help.

"Anniversary," Alexis says slowly. "I had to stop them from coming in here half an hour ago. They were just a little excited. But I convinced them that you needed your sleep, Kate." She gives Kate a hug, whispering "Happy anniversary, Kate and Dad," and sitting on the end of the bed.

"Thanks, Pumpkin," Castle says, the last syllable punched out of him as Lucas throws his little arms around Castle's middle. "See, Kate, hugger muggers. Stealing hugs, all the time."

"Dad, you've been reading _Hamlet _again, haven't you?" Alexis asks, a look of amusement on her face.

"What's a hugger mugger, Dad?" Lucas asks. Castle looks to Kate for help, but Matthew is plastered to her, stealing the strawberries from her plate, and he completely forgets everything except the perfect picture they make.

"Yeah, _Daddy_, care to explain that one to your sons?"

Castle smirks at Kate and tries to deflect the question at hand back at her. "What about you, _Mommy_? You've always been a much better hugger mugger than I have."

Her sons now look thoroughly confused, both of them looking between their parents, probably hoping that one of them would just tell them already. Finally, it's Alexis who takes pity on them.

"He was calling you secretive, Lucas. Because you were peeking in the door."

"Oh," Lucas replies, sounding disappointed. "I thought it had something to do with hugs."

"Your dad was using it that way," Kate says as she soothes her oldest son, leaning over and dropping a kiss on the top of his head and giving Matthew a squeeze so he doesn't feel left out. "And it's appropriate, I guess."

"Our little hugger muggers," Castle repeats victoriously, and Kate laughs at the way Alexis rolls her eyes.

The boys laugh, settle in next to them, and they all fall into silence as Kate and Castle eat their breakfast. Kate's thankful for this quiet moment with her family, knowing that the rest of the day won't be as life-affirming. But she has this, and that's more than she ever hoped to have.

* * *

_Hugger mugger_

Origin: 1530s

Meaning: To act in a secretive manner


	3. Chapter 3

_You guys continue to amaze me with your support of this story. Keep in mind, these will now be all in the same universe. They won't be chronological, but you should be able to figure out very easily where each chapter falls in the timeline._

* * *

Castle wakes up with his head pounding and the sun beating in through the windows. The sun is too bright and it takes him longer than it should to realize that it's coming from the wrong direction. He tries to lift his head, figure out why the sun is not only coming through the windows from the wrong direction but also shining much brighter than it should be in his bedroom. But the moment his head leaves the pillow, the room begins to swirl and he drops it heavily back down onto the pillow.

"Ow," Kate says from beside him, her voice sounding gravelly and deep and incredibly sexy. "That was my arm, Castle."

"Sorry," he whispers, moving her arm out of the way and soothing where his head dropped on it with his hand.

"Castle, I feel like shit. And why the hell are we naked on the floor of your office?"

He looks up, pushes past the nausea he feels, and takes in their surroundings. They are, in fact, naked on the floor of his office. She has a blanket covering her—well, kind of—and he's one corner away from being completely exposed should his mother or daughter cross the threshold.

Another wave of nausea hits him with the thought, until he remembers that his mother is in the Hamptons and his daughter off on a school trip to London. Thank God for that.

"Do you even remember getting home?" she asks, her eyes still closed against the bright sun and matching headache he imagines she has.

"Uh…" he starts, unsure of his answer. He remembers dinner, the bottle of wine they shared, and spontaneously deciding to go dancing. He started to lose track of how much they'd had to drink—stopped counting, actually—but he definitely remembers walking home, remembers the small box in his pocket, and dropping to one knee before he could even think twice about the timing.

His heart starts pounding, unable to believe that he could be so stupid as to propose to Kate while they were obviously both drunk. And if she doesn't remember getting home…

Castle sits up and reaches for her left hand, immediately searching for a ring. When he finds it, sees the sun catch the diamond and the way it looks perfect on her finger, he inhales deeply and searches her face, wonders if she's trying to find a way out of it.

"You were carrying this around in your pocket." Her words are soft and certain, not at all what he was expecting.

"I was. But Kate, I shouldn't have asked, not when you were—hell, we both were drunk."

Kate sits up, what little of the blanket that was covering her falling in what little space is between them. She doesn't hesitate, but brings her left hand to his cheek and he can feel the coolness of the metal against his heated skin.

"So ask again."

"Really?"

"Castle. You bought the ring and you were carrying it around in your pocket last night. The idea of proposing was obviously on your mind. But if it will ease your mind that I didn't just say 'yes' because I was drunk, then by all means, ask me again."

He gets on one knee immediately, taking her left hand in both of his and having no qualms about his state of undress. It is just them, after all, and he can't think of anything that is more _them_ than proposing to her on the floor of his office while they're both naked.

It would make one hell of a story to tell the kids someday.

Castle shoves down the thought, deciding to use the moment to his advantage. He doesn't remember his exact words last night, and he's afraid they might have been jumbled and slurred. But he has a second chance now, and he wants to make sure that he does this the right way.

"Katherine Beckett, will you marry me?"

Unfortunately, those six words are the only ones he can string together. He thinks, though, that they are enough considering the way she giggles and nods her head.

"Yes, Castle, I'll marry you. Now get back down here. You look ridiculous."

He follows her back to the floor, their heads hitting their respective pillows with a groan. He turns his head and looks at her, his fiancé, and sees her staring back at him with what he imagines is a smile so bright it mirrors his own.

"Shouldn't we be celebrating?"

"Judging by the way the office looks," she says, looking around the room and lifting an empty wine bottle from somewhere behind her, "and the way I feel, I'd say we did plenty of that last night."

He silently agrees with her, slowly nodding his head as they lay next to each other.

"And don't take this the wrong way, but I feel pretty crapulous right now."

"Crapulous? It's nice to know your vocabulary hasn't been affected."

"Yeah, well I already said I felt like shit. I didn't want to sound repetitious and have you get bored with me."

"Never." He leans forward and gives her a quick kiss, making no attempt to deepen it. He sees her struggle to keep her eyes open, sleep already threatening to claim her once again. "I know we could both use a few more hours sleep, but do you think we could at least move this little party to the bedroom. I'll be a good boy, I promise."

Her eyes open with a laugh. "Mmm, bed," she mumbles as she stands, pulling Castle with her into the bedroom and onto the bed without preamble.

He pulls back the blankets for her, cuddling in next to her as she situates the pillows as if doing so is her only mission in life. When she finally lays her head down on the pillow, he pulls the blankets up over them and crowds into her from behind, his arm draping over her bare stomach and resting there.

"Castle?" she says softly, just when he was sure sleep had once again claimed her.

"Hmm?"

"Love you."

The words are soft and broken, her hung over and half-asleep brain not capable of forming a complete sentence, but he appreciates the sentiment nonetheless.

"Love you too, Kate."

* * *

_Crapulous_

Meaning: To feel ill because of excessive eating/drinking.  
Origin: 1530s


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks again to Tree23 for giving this a once over. She's particularly fond of the longer length for this one. _

_My original intention for this was to do the words in order, but I think I'm going to change that. They will still be in the same universe, though._

* * *

Castle and Beckett lean against the edge of her desk, eyes deeply concentrating on a sparse-looking murder board. They've been silent for close to five minutes, and Castle can feel the tension coming off Beckett in waves. This case has been frustrating. Three days and he's lost count of how many leads have turned out to be dead ends.

He looks over to her, sees the way she focuses on the board, and wonders what must be going through her head. Her silence is nothing new. He's learned during the whole time they've been together—both professionally and personally—not to assume she's upset with him in some way. Her focus has always been one of the characteristics that's drawn him to her.

He sees Ryan and Esposito enter the bullpen before Kate does, and he can see the way their faces are full of disappointment. Another dead end. Castle makes to say something, keep the atmosphere from getting too heavy with their lack of progress, but Kate sees them and immediately wants to know the whole story.

"Alibis check out, Beckett," Esposito says, Ryan shaking his head next to him. "Every single one of them checks out. Nobody saw anything, and everyone has someone who can vouch for their whereabouts for the timeframe of the murder. Either this is one hell of a cover up, or we're barking up the wrong tree entirely."

"In that case, maybe we should be looking into the mob. They're good with cover-ups and misdirections," Castle says, recognizing his opportunity to lighten the mood with some humor.

"Damn it, Castle. Not now," Beckett barks, slamming her hand down on the desk before she stands and starts pacing back and forth in front of the murder board.

His eyes go wide, shocked by her reaction. When he looks to the boys, they have equally petrified expressions, all three of them not familiar with Kate's unusually emotional reaction to something as trivial as one of Castle's far-fetched theories.

"Kate," he says with a soft voice. He reaches out for her hand, but she swats it away, turning toward him with a flurry of emotions on her face. "Can I have a word?"

"Not now, Castle."

"Yes, now." He looks to the boys for help, knowing that he needs to calm her down if they have any hopes of breaking open this case.

"Go ahead Beckett," Ryan says with a twinge of fear in his voice. "Javi and I have some phone calls to make anyway. With any luck we'll have some better news for you when you get back."

Kate runs her hands through her hair and lets out a loud sigh, not saying a word as she lets Castle silently lead her through the bullpen in search of a place where they can have a moment of privacy. He steers them into the conference room, draws the blinds, and shuts the door. She falls into the closest chair, her elbows resting on her knees as she again runs her hands through her hair.

"Care to share why you're being so grumpish today? I know this is a frustrating case, Kate, but that's no reason to take it out on your team."

"You mean you." Her voice is soft, barely a whisper, and the words are clipped as if she's holding something back.

"Well, yes, but if you're snapping at me it's only a matter of time before you go after the boys, too. So what's wrong, Kate?"

Kate sits up, leans back in the chair, and lets loose.

"I miss coffee, I have a bad feeling about my dress-fitting tomorrow, I _really_ want to finish this case before the weekend, and I've wanted to break down crying at least five times today."

Castle's shoulders slump as he walks across the room and takes the seat next to her. Suddenly, everything makes sense.

"One thing at a time," he says as he takes her hand. "You don't have to give up coffee completely. The doctor just said you need to cut down on your intake."

"But Castle, the smell makes me nauseous."

"Really? Why didn't you say so?"

"It's not so strong I feel like I'm going to get sick. It just…lingers."

Castle curses under his breath, hating himself for not noticing the way she was reacting to the smell as he brewed the coffee this morning. "In that case, we just have to minimize your exposure to it. And if you stop getting nauseous, we can try some half-strength."

"That's great Castle, but I still miss it."

"Of course you do. You're addicted to it."

"As if you aren't."

"So I'll give it up, too. We can suffer together for the next eight months or so."

She smiles at that, and he knows he's on the right track.

"What was next on that list?" he asks, but she looks like she doesn't even remember everything she was worried about just a few minutes ago, so he goes ahead. "Oh yeah. Why aren't you looking forward to the dress fitting?"

"Because I'm pretty sure it won't fit anymore in certain places."

"You mean…" he starts but trails off, his hands pointing toward her breasts.

"God, Castle. Yes, that's exactly what I mean. I'm not far enough along for anything else to need adjusting. At least, I hope not."

"But it _will _happen. Let's just be thankful that the wedding is next week so we don't have to worry about people jumping to the conclusion that this is a shotgun wedding."

"Castle," she says through a laugh. "We announced our engagement months ago. No one could assume that anyway."

"But?"

"Thanks for pointing out that I'm going to get even bigger, Castle."

"You're pregnant, Kate."

"Thank you Captain Obvious," she volleys back, complete with an eye roll.

As they sit there in the conference room, Castle realizes that this is the first conversation they've had about her pregnancy since it was confirmed about a week ago. That first night had been one of wonderment, their elation mixed in with how to handle sharing the news with their family and friends. They agreed to keep the news to themselves until after the wedding, unless something happened that gave them reason to let the people close to them know.

"Castle," Kate says, bringing them back to the issue at hand. "The longer this case goes on, the more likely it is that bringing in the person responsible won't be peaceful. And if that's the case—"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." He can't help being selfish about keeping the knowledge that they're going to have a baby to themselves a while longer. It's thrilling, knowing something that no one else knows except for Kate.

But the look on her face says she may be having second thoughts about that decision.

"The only problem with that plan is that if we get a suspect, or even have to make an arrest, we're not going to have the time to talk to Gates and the boys and explain to them _why_ I can't go with them or have to hang back. They'll get suspicious and then we'll definitely have to tell them."

"So, what? Do you want to just tell them and get it over with?"

Kate goes silent, seemingly considering their options. She opens her mouth as if to speak but stops, only to come to a conclusion the next moment. "I think…maybe we can tell the boys? They would be able to cover for me. And we could ask them to keep it between us until after we get back from our honeymoon. Then we can tell Gates."

"I can get on board with that." Castle leans forward, taking her hand once again and smiling. This is, more than anything else, a topic of conversation he expected to fight with her over for the duration of her pregnancy. She hates not being there, not being involved from beginning to end. But here she is, proving him wrong once again.

"I guess that just leaves my extreme case of mood swings to deal with," she suggests, and he can see that she hopes he has some kind of magical cure.

But he doesn't.

"Honey," he starts, trying to ignore the glare she gives him at the use of the endearment. "I hate to be the one to break this to you, but they won't go away for a while. Even after the baby's born, your body will have to adjust."

"You're really going to be my life saver through all this, aren't you?" she tells him, her hand brushing down his cheek and jaw to take hold of his collar.

"Well, yeah. That's what partners do, right?" He kisses the hand he's holding, watching her relax and match the smile he imagines is on his face. "But seriously, you need to give me a heads-up when these mood swings are happening. I know you won't always be able to help it, or even be fully aware of it, but if you feel like you're going to bite someone's head off, go get a drink of water or get some fresh air. Or, you know, just tell me."

"Of course, because I'm _so_ good at admitting that I'm not in control," she jokes, though the statement is laced with truth. She hasn't always been good at sharing. In fact, she's still a work in progress. But the fact that she admits it willingly is progress in itself.

"Just…try not to bite my head off next time I try to lighten the mood. Think you can do that? Or, not do it, rather?"

She doesn't answer him, only smiles and nods as her hands cradle his face. But he doesn't get to kiss her, as her phone buzzes with a message from Esposito.

"Everything okay?"

"That was Espo," she says, standing and grabbing his hand. "They may have a solid lead. And they want to make sure we haven't killed each other." Her last words are said through a smile, even as she pulls him close, delays opening the door by kissing him.

"Ready to go?" he asks when she releases him. She runs her hands through her hair and down her face, trying to regain that last bit of composure before she finally opens the door.

He doesn't question why she didn't answer, just takes solace in the fact that she reaches for his hand again as they walk back into the bullpen, intent on solving another murder before they officially become husband and wife.

* * *

_Grumpish_

Meaning: Sullen. An alternative to grumpy.  
Origin: 1720s


End file.
